


to be awake is to be alive

by AnnieMar, ibelieveinturtles



Series: Darcyverse [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23368234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieMar/pseuds/AnnieMar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinturtles/pseuds/ibelieveinturtles
Summary: Girl meets boy, boy meets girl ... what is real? #wintershock
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis
Series: Darcyverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730857
Comments: 64
Kudos: 201
Collections: Marching Orders





	1. Chapter 1




	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Turtles for the amaaaazing moodboard, it was SO FUN to work with. And make sure to check out her writing, it's wonderful. 
> 
> Also, many many thanks to Sigridhr for putting this collection and challenge together, it's been a blast and she worked really hard to make sure this was such a success. Much love.

**~~*...*~~**

_She looked over the strawberries at the market stand. It was the point in the summer when they were the sweetest, nice and big, but not too big. They were a lovely deep red color with a shiny exterior. She could smell the earth on them, and it perhaps brought back a memory of a forgotten day, when her grandmother sprinkled sugar over a bowl of freshly quartered strawberries. Darcy had been amazed at how this rendered them softer, sweeter, even redder, and with a light syrup to drizzle over vanilla ice cream. Macerated, is what they were. Macerated strawberries, a highlight of the season._

_She smiled, closing her eyes and inhaling the scent._

_"Hey, I know you … right?" A deep voice said beside her._

_Darcy opened her eyes to see a man standing directly to her right. Some of his hair had escaped from its tie, and the breeze had it waving about his face. He reached up and tucked it behind his ear. It was a gesture he did often, as she knew exactly who he was. The two of them ran in the same circles._

_"Maybe," she grinned. "You're Sam's friend, right? The guy with the amazing tomatoes?"_

_He was definitely "farmer's market hot." She could see him having a pickle side-hustle, or selling specialty cheeses in a flannel shirt and leather jacket. The kind of guy that made his own beer in his basement, or in a barn he'd renovated._

_He gave a laugh. "Some days, I suppose you could say that Sam and I are friends. And you're the … baker?"_

_Darcy nodded. "I'm working on a shortcake recipe."_

_He picked up a strawberry and slowly bit into its flesh, his lips closing around it._

_She clenched her fist and tilted her head, looking at him doe-eyed._

_He stared at her, chewing, and finally swallowed. She became transfixed on his throat._

_"Shortcake, eh?" he said, snapping her out of her "farmer's market hot guy" reverie. "I can't wait to try it if you'll let me."_

**~~*...*~~**

Darcy stood over a baking sheet of croissants, fresh out of the oven. She still felt rusty, having not spent much time in a kitchen lately. Usually, the act of cooking helped to clear her mind, aided in new ideas. It was something about the repetition of forming balls of dough or chopping up vegetables, that led her to a calm and meditative state. It helped to clear out the cobwebs. She inhaled the scent of buttery, flaky, and tender freshly baked dough … and caught a hint of something else. 

_Strawberries?_

Bucky Barnes walked into the kitchen as she was pondering phantom fruity smells. 

"Hey," he said softly and low, with a tone that said, _"I'm not really in the mood for talking, I just wanted to be polite."_

She gave him a wary glance. "Hey, yourself." 

He got a bottle of Coke out of the fridge and twisted the cap off. Darcy knew those were explicitly for him … Mexican Cokes. The glass bottles. The real sugar. He liked real things. Things that he knew. Somehow this information was within her, and she wasn't exactly sure how. 

Bucky walked up to the kitchen island, brand new, now that the Avengers facility had been rebuilt. State of the art. Top of the line. They even had refrigerated drawers. Unfortunately, not many of the Avengers could actually cook. 

He seemed a little nervous yet resolute. "You're Darcy … yeah?" 

She nodded. "That's me. And you're… Bucky?" She arched a brow and played along, acting as if she'd only barely heard of him, yet she knew damn well who he was. 

He looked relieved that he didn't have to explain anything. "And you work in … ?" 

"Tech." She gave him a little half-smile, as "tech" was a little bit of an omission. 

Bucky grinned and took a long drink of his Coke. She watched his Adam's apple as he swallowed. He licked his lips. "Tech, eh?" 

She nodded. "And you're in …?" 

"Adjustments." 

She laughed as he gave her a shy smile like he wasn't aware that a girl could find him amusing. It was absurd, this gorgeous man being pleased with himself for speaking to a girl. Perhaps he was just out of practice. 

Darcy looked back down at her croissants. "I'm actually working on a theory with Jane, about parallel universes and the blip's effect on them. We've come to a bit of an impasse, and baking helps me think."

He stood with his hands in his pockets with his full attention on her, and for some reason, she felt like she could confide in him, that one day he'd be important to her. It was a fleeting notion, here and there in a flash. 

"I guess around these parts I'm known more for baking than I am for thinking," she said, shrugging. "I don't mean that in a bad way. I'd rather be baking. Baking makes me happier." Darcy gave a nervous laugh. "I don't know why I'm telling you this." 

His shoulders relaxed as he realized she was as nervous as he was. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm known for …uh ..." 

"Forgetting things?" 

"Yeah, you could say that," he chuckled. "But I'd rather be goat-herding. Goat-herding makes me happier." 

She inclined her head, pursing her lips. "This is gonna get a little awkward, but I gotta ask," she said, raising a finger. "Goat-herding? You were a … _goat_ -herder?" 

He nodded. "In Africa. Living off the land, no one bothered me much … except the goats. For the first time in … well, my entire life, I didn't worry about anything. Things were simple." He gave a little self-deprecating laugh. "I don't know why I'm telling you this." 

"Sounds very Walden Pond." 

"Never read it … or if I did …" 

"You forgot?" 

"Yeah." 

Darcy was now entirely at ease with him. "It's a real page-turner." 

"Is that so," he said, taking a step towards her. 

"Yeah, if you're stuck at a cabin in the woods with only Thoreau for company. And maybe a few squirrels. Probably not any goats, though." 

He laughed, and his eyes crinkled at the sides. Darcy knew those little crinkles were going to be dear to her. 

**~~*...*~~**

_He'd invited her to his house. It was idyllic, situated right by a lake, like something out of a dream. A considerable log cabin he'd probably built himself. As she walked up to his porch she noticed his vast garden situated nearby, his prized tomatoes coming along beautifully. Way out in the back, there was, of course, a barn, where she was sure she'd find things fermenting._

_He greeted her at the screen door as it screeched open, that classic summer sound. "Shortcake."_

_She rolled her eyes. It was now a saccharine-sweet term of endearment, and it bothered her much less than she let on._

_"Oh, did you not want me to bring these?" Darcy held up her basket filled with baked goods._

_"You wound me."_

_He'd made her dinner, from farm to table, so to speak. Tomato salad with basil and fresh burrata, lasagna with summer squash. She added the bread she'd baked, cannolis, and wine from a local vineyard. It all went together effortlessly._

_Later, they sat on his porch and watched the sunset, a brilliant display of warm splashes of soft light, the night sky appearing in purples and midnight blue._

_He put his hand on her thigh, and she looked over into his eyes. They were almost turquoise in the glow of twilight._

**~~*...*~~**

A few days later, Darcy was back in the kitchen with more croissants, having had enough of Jane for the time being and how she had a tendency to yell and pace as she worked problems out. 

Bucky walked in again. "Haven't seen you in a few days." 

She bit her lip, trying to keep from grinning like an idiot. He'd come to the kitchen and noticed she wasn't there. 

Darcy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Needed a break." 

He raised a brow. "Why, croissants?"

"A croissant is to baking what an omelet is to cooking. You can't call yourself a baker if you can't make a good croissant, and you can't call yourself a cook if you can't make a good omelet."

"Hn. Sounds like something the French would say." 

She laughed. "You don't like French food?" 

He put up a finger. "I never said that. But I prefer Italian." 

Darcy tilted her head in surprise as somehow, she'd known that. 

Bucky took a croissant from the pan and tore it in half, quickly. It was perfect. "Seems like you got it down, why are you still practicing?" 

Darcy looked down. "I was feeling a bit rusty, I haven't baked in a while."

"So, you were gone?" 

It was a much better way of putting it. Instead of being "blipped" or "snapped." 

She nodded. 'Yeah. You?" 

"I was, but for once, I'm ahead of the curve it seems. A lot of people aren't dealing well, whereas I've had a bit of practice waking up after having lost years of my life." 

Darcy blinked. "Right. Sorry." 

"Don't be. 

Her lips quirked up in a small smile. "Okay." 

"Do you remember anything?" 

She shook her head. "Not a thing. It's all dark. You?" 

He frowned. "I think sometimes I do remember things, and then it's like I can't catch it, it always slips away." 

**~~*...*~~**

_They fell into a comfortable rhythm, she even began to enjoy waking up with him at dawn to take care of the animals he kept. A few goats and chickens. Their days, their banter, were so entwined now, that it was like she couldn't recall a time before him. She didn't want to._

_At the end of summer, they had a gathering, a party. Mainly her idea, but he always loved to see the plans in her head come to fruition. How her eyes would light up when something she looked forward to had finally arrived._

_Sam, Wanda … Peter and Strange, among others. Their circle was a peculiar bunch, and no one quite understood why they were all friends, why they felt like a family, but they were connected somehow._

_Sometimes when she lay in bed with him and everything felt perfect, almost like paradise, she'd think perhaps something was wrong. Nothing was ever this ideal._

_He'd soothe her by lightly tracing his hand down her arm._

_"Do you ever feel like something's missing?" she'd ask._

_"What could possibly be missing, shortcake?"_

_She groaned at the awful pet name and gave him a playful slap. "I just feel like … there should be more. Like we had some kind of higher purpose."_

_"You won't always feel like that."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Enjoy the good things while you can; in dark times, you'll wish you had."_

_She clutched him tighter. "As long as I have you, there won't be dark times."_

_He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair. "I'll always find you somehow, even in the dark."_

_She believed him._

**~~*...*~~**

By now, Darcy knew he'd come in for a coke at a specific time, she just didn't know if it was for her, or if it was his regularly scheduled coke-time. 

She leaned over on the kitchen island and watched the ice cream machine spin. 

"So, you've moved on from croissants."

She nodded. "It was time." 

"What's on the menu today?"

"Ice cream." 

"Ambitious. So the theory isn't going so well?" 

"Not really. Jane's in there grilling Peter Parker, and the poor kid just looks scared," she laughed. 

"What's he getting grilled for?" 

"There's a strange energy signature on him like there are copies of him … and they might be in alternate realities." 

Bucky twisted the cap off his Coke. "Does this have to do with that Mysterio guy?" 

Darcy laughed. "No, that guy was a fraud, this is something else … somehow Jane thinks that while Peter was blipped, other Peter Parkers from other universes converged." 

He frowned. "What?" 

"I know. I don't get it either. That's why I came in here and made ice cream." 

He stepped closer to her. "You'd rather be baking." 

"Huh?" 

"It's something you said last week. You'd always rather be baking, so why not do that?"

She straightened her shoulders. "Why don't you go and be a goat-herder? Live off the land." 

"I might." 

Darcy inclined her head. "You wouldn't feel like something was missing?" 

He furrowed his brow in thought. "The only time I had the luxury of that was in 1944, and the thing I was missing was home." 

"Hm." 

"I've learned to kind of … go with things," Bucky said. 

"Right." She never knew how to react to his allusions to his past. His way-back past. So she turned the ice cream machine off and took the top off. It had been years since she'd made ice cream. She used to pour over cookbooks learning secrets, experimented with flavor combinations, searched for the best ingredients, making sure to use what was in season. 

She blinked. "I wish I would have enjoyed all the good things before. Simple things. I feel like I'm still in the dark." 

He put his hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture. 

She got the strangest sense that she'd almost remembered something, and it flitted away before she could catch hold of it. Lying in a bed with Bucky. He'd swept his flesh fingers down her arm. 

She blushed and grabbed a spoon from a drawer as a distraction. She used it to scoop up a little ice cream. 

She handed it to Bucky. "Here, try it." 

He took it and closed his lips around the spoon. He smiled as he tasted it. "It's wonderful." 

She beamed up at him. "Real vanilla bean. And a shot of vodka for texture. I also have macerated and roasted strawberries to go with it. A drizzle of balsamic vinegar … but …" 

"I know what's missing," he said, finishing her thought. "I know, shortcake." 

She blinked as she couldn't quite distinguish if he meant "shortcake" as a name or a solution. He seemed just as stunned as she was. 

There was a familiar sense of embarrassment and humor, and finally, she was able to catch the thought or the memory. She held onto it this time. Was it deja vu? Was it a dream? 

She looked up into his blue eyes. 

Absolutely nothing was missing. 


End file.
